


The Smallest Things

by JayofOlympus



Category: Avengers (Comics), The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Bucky Barnes is good with Kids, Bucky Bear - Freeform, Deaf Clint Barton, Grief/Mourning, Kid Fic, Learning to Parent, M/M, Minor Character Death, Natasha Romanov Is a Good Bro, Slow Burn, Tony Stark Is a Good Bro, cute kid
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-05
Updated: 2020-06-21
Packaged: 2021-03-01 03:14:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 16,156
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23498080
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JayofOlympus/pseuds/JayofOlympus
Summary: Clint's life is turned upside down by a single phone call. Left reeling in the aftermath of his brother's sudden passing, he needs help coming to terms with the new normal. Luckily, Bucky has some experience coping with sudden, drastic changes.
Relationships: Clint Barton & Natasha Romanov, James "Bucky" Barnes & Steve Rogers, James "Bucky" Barnes & Tony Stark, James "Bucky" Barnes/Clint Barton, Steve Rogers/Tony Stark
Comments: 56
Kudos: 158





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> The title comes from the A.A Milne quote "Sometimes... the smallest things take up the most room in your heart."
> 
> Thank you, Ali, for both pushing me to actually work on this fic, and being incredibly patient with me when I write nothing for it for months at a time. You're the best and I love you.

_“Agent Barton, the cell phone on your desk is ringing. It appears to be an Iowa number.”_

The sudden sound of JARVIS addressing him directly was startling, to say the least, though his words made Clint groan in annoyance as he shot through another ridiculous looking robot.

 _“Problem, Hawkeye?”_ Cap asked cautiously through the comms. The fight wasn’t particularly difficult, and the robots were numerous, but easily stopped, so it made sense for Cap to be suspicious. Nothing in their lives ever seemed to be easy.

“No problem, Cap,” Clint assured him, taking aim again. “Just sounds like I’ve got a personal issue to deal with when we get done.”

He heard his comm click over to a private channel as he let loose another arrow, getting a certain amount of satisfaction from the way the robot sparked as it fell.

 _“Barney or Trick Shot?”_ Natasha asked, voice sharp and demanding.

“Barney,” he said, scanning the area for threats to the team. “Probably looking for another bail out or something. It can wait ‘til we’re done here.”

 _“I will kill him for you if he’s gotten himself into any real trouble again,”_ she offered, switching back to the team channel before he could respond.

The battle ended quickly enough, though the debriefing seemed to drag on forever while Clint ran through all the possibilities in his mind. It had been over six years since he and Barney had last spoken in person. Barney had called him, asking for bail money after pulling some stunt that landed him on the wrong side of the law again. He’d kept an eye on his brother’s movements over the years, and they had traded very sparse communication through text. But while him settling down back in Waverly had been a surprise, given that he’d once said that he had no happy memories of that place, Barney had seemed to have kept himself out of too much trouble, at least until whatever this was.

When Fury finally dismissed them, Clint didn’t bother sticking around to speak with the others, nearly walking right into the Tower’s resident ghost on his way out of the briefing room. Barnes tended to get antsy when they were out on missions, and was almost always waiting for them either outside the briefing room, or in the lounge area of the common floor, depending on just how antsy he’d been.

Clint would normally have paused to at least greet him, but this time he only threw a “Sorry Barnes,” over his shoulder on his way to the elevator.

He listened to the message left on his cell phone (a cell phone which very few people had the number for) on the way back down to the common floor. In the back of his mind, as he listened with his heart falling to his stomach like a ball of lead, he thought it was probably a good thing that he’d decided to do so. He needed Nat. He needed her right now, and he likely wouldn’t have been able to think clearly enough to go back downstairs to find her if he’d waited until after listening to the message.

He stared down at his trembling hands as the elevator doors opened into the common floor, the open design of the floor ensuring that everyone gathered (which was pretty much everyone, barring Cap and Barnes) could see him.

“Are you alright?” Banner asked, stepping forward.

All Clint could think of in that moment were his shaking hands. They wouldn’t stop shaking, and he could only watch as his cell phone slipped from his fingers to land with a dull thunk on the floor as he stumbled out of the elevator.

A hand touched his shoulder lightly, ready to be torn away in a fraction of a second if he reacted badly to it. He turned his head enough to see Nat standing beside him, her face a blank mask, but her eyes full of concern.

“Clint?” she said gently, moving so that she was between him and the rest of the room. “What’s going on?”

For a moment, the words wouldn’t come. He moved his mouth soundlessly as he tried to explain, and then, all of a sudden, it tumbled out of him in one quick burst.

“He’s gone. Barney’s dead.”


	2. Chapter 2

Bucky hated calls to Assemble. There were many reasons for that hatred; a list which started with the alarm itself. It would startle him, and leave him unsettled and anxious for hours afterward. Not that he’d ever tell Steve about the anxiety. It would just make him worry.

His main reason for hating calls to Assemble was that the residential floors of Stark Tower would pretty much empty, and all of the missing residents would be facing unknown dangers for hours at a time while Bucky was stuck sitting around, waiting to see if they’d all make it back home. It was agonising. He barely knew most of them, but he’d done his research on all of them, and the team was full of good people. They were good for Steve too. They had to make it home.

He had carefully avoided looking at the screen in the corner of Miss Potts’ office when he had slipped inside with lunch for her. She’d barely glanced away from it long enough to thank him. They’d watched the news together once, back when he was first starting to come around to the idea of spending time around people who weren’t Steve. He’d tried it to see if it helped his anxiety to be able to see at least part of what the team was facing, but it had only made it worse. He’d latched onto Steve the second he was off the Quinjet that day. It was better not watching, and he had no idea how Miss Potts could handle watching her best friend face down death like that all the time. Maybe she was just stronger than he was.

JARVIS alerted him when the team touched down, and Bucky made sure to wait for a measured period of time before heading downstairs to lurk outside the briefing room. It was pretty much tradition at this point. Stark would make a joke about Bucky’s habit of looming in the shadows; Banner would smile and yawn; Natalia would poke him on her way past; Barton would greet him and make a joke or comment on the mission; Thor would pat him on the arm on his way past. It worked well, and Steve was always the last one out of the room, so Bucky would have to interact with all of the others in some way, even if it was just to indicate somehow that he didn’t want to interact. He’d accuse Steve of orchestrating it, but he had always been the last one out of debriefings.

The usual script was thrown out, however, when Barton rushed through the door ahead of everyone else, a look of intense concentration on his face as he barged past Bucky.  
“Sorry Barnes,” he called over his shoulder, already halfway into the elevator.

The abruptness of it set Bucky’s anxiety back into motion, and he slunk over into the corner to avoid the others until Steve came out of the briefing room. He didn’t like the change of pace, and Barton’s abruptness was out of character for a smooth, clean mission. If things had gone well, there would be no reason for him to be so wound up.

The others all seemed fine, but the anxiety had already kicked in. By the time Steve came out, Bucky had chewed down his fingernail until his finger was bleeding.

“You alright, Buck?” Steve asked, gently pulling Bucky’s hand away from his face. “We can head up to the apartment. Listen to some music?”

Bucky nodded wordlessly, still staring toward the elevator.

“Injuries?” he asked, clasping Steve’s hand so that he wouldn’t bite his nails again.

“Sam scraped his knuckles, and Tony tweaked his knee trying to pull off a showy landing,” Steve said, leading him toward the stairs. Bucky didn’t do well in enclosed spaces when he was in that kind of mood, and even though the elevator was big enough to comfortably hold Hulk and Thor at the same time, there were no escape routes for Bucky to utilise when his anxiety was acting up. “Besides that, everyone’s alright. Barton had to run off pretty sharp there though; apparently there was a pretty important call he had to take.”

They ended up sitting on the couch for most of the night, quietly listening to some of Bucky’s favourite soothing music. Steve could be smothering at times, but Bucky loved those quiet moments where they could just exist without having to interact. The peacefulness of it was nice after all of the chaos and confusion he’d experienced when he’d first been brought out of cryofreeze.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nat investigates, and Clint meets a friend of Barney's.

They drove through the night. Nat made him pull over to take a break and eat nine hours in, then herded him into the passenger seat so he could get some sleep. He mostly dozed, drifting in and out for a few hours before he took over the driving again for the last stretch of road leading back to his hometown.

“You’re suspicious,” Nat said, less than an hour away from Waverly. It wasn’t a question. She never really asked questions about what he was thinking anymore. She didn’t need to.

“His car went off the road on the same stretch where my parents’ truck got wrapped around a tree,” Clint said, eyes firmly on the road so he didn’t have to see whatever face Nat was making. “The sheriff said he hadn’t been drinking. That makes for one hell of a coincidence. I just don’t trust it.”

There was silence while Nat considered it. The radio had been off since they got out of New York.

“I’ll look into it,” she finally said. “While you’re dealing with the lawyer.”

They spent the rest of the drive in silence, and when he pulled up in front of the address the lawyer had given him, Nat said nothing, slipping out of the car without a word.

“I guess I’ll let you know when I’m done,” Clint said, eyeing the building. It seemed so unassuming.

Nat gave him a quick peck on the cheek before slipping off to do her thing, leaving Clint alone, staring at the lawyer’s practice. He could do this.

Inside, the receptionist ushered him right into the lawyer’s office, apparently ready for his arrival.

“We weren’t sure how soon to expect you, Mister Barton,” the lawyer said. “Given the resources at your disposal, and how distressed you sounded over the phone, I thought it was best to prepare for you to be here sooner rather than later.” He gestured for Clint to take a seat. “I’m sure yesterday was overwhelming, so I doubt you caught my name in all of it. I’m Chris Harris, and I was a friend of Barney’s.”

Clint didn’t bother telling him that he remembered the phone call in perfect detail. He remembered that the sheriff was Gil Peterson, and that Barney had been found at 5.14am, that he’d gone off the road two and a half miles away from the farmhouse, and that it had taken them over five hours to find Clint’s number. They had called at 11.27am. He had listened to the message at 1.09pm, and had called back at 1.22. All of that was burned into his mind with horrifying clarity.

“What happens now?” He asked, staring at his hands. Nat would figure out what had happened, he just had to deal with the legal stuff.

“Well, after Josie passed last year, Barney started thinking more seriously about a will,” Harris said, sifting through the papers on his desk. It was pretty clear to Clint that he wasn’t actually looking for anything, just keeping his hands busy. He and Barney must have been close. “I don’t know if he ever actually called you, after we drew up the will. I told him that he should, but… well, you guys never spoke. He was sure you wouldn’t mind what we drew up. The house was partially yours anyway, and he said he trusted you with everything.”

Clint nodded. He remembered Barney drunkenly rambling something about shared ownership of the house last time they’d actually spoken. He hadn’t ever called about the will, but that was pretty par for the course between them.

“And what’s going to happen with the kid… Jack?” Clint asked. That had been the biggest shock of all of it. When Barney had sent him a picture out of the blue of a tiny, red, screaming baby, with the label ‘Jack Barton’. That had been four years ago.

Harris was quiet for a moment. Hesitant. It set Clint on edge.

“That’s why I told Barney to call you about the will,” he said. “Josie didn’t have any family, and Barney has always been… picky, I guess, about who was allowed to look after Jack. There were very few people he trusted to take him, if the worst should happen, and he said he would prefer for Jack to be with family.”

Clint could only stare at him. He and Barney didn’t have any other family. But there was no way that Barney would have named him the kid’s guardian. They hadn’t even spoken to each other since before the kid was born.

“Barney wanted you to have legal guardianship of Jack, if anything happened to him,” Harris said, reading Clint’s shock. “He told me that he trusted you more than anyone. He wouldn’t really say much about what you do, but he insinuated you work for the government in some capacity. And then New York happened, and Barney must’ve seen you there with all the emergency services. He insisted that there was no place safer for Jack than with you.”

“He was watching what happened in New York?” Clint croaked. That had been about a month and a half before Jack had been born.

Harris nodded. “Over at Tom’s bar,” he said. “We sat there watching the news with just about half the town, and then Barney saw something and turned to me and said “That’s my brother. My brother’s there”. He… he was terrified. I don’t think I’ve ever seen him that scared before or since. He didn’t get a chance to point you out, so all I saw was a crowd of police and people in suits. But knowing you were there… I believed him when he said Jack couldn’t get any safer.”

Clint dug his nails into his thigh in an effort to keep from crying. Barney had been watching. He’d been worried. He _trusted_ him. Trusted Clint with his kid. Clint hadn’t trusted him in return. He’d kept an eye on everything going on in Barney’s life. Watched for hospital admissions or police reports. He’d always watched for any signs of Barney turning into their father, while Barney told his friend that Clint was the only one he wanted to trust to look after his _child_.

“I… I understand this must be a shock,” Harris said, shuffling his papers again. “And if it’s not something you’re prepared to take on, there are other options to explore for Jack. We could look for a good placement for him in the foster care system.”

Clint had to bite his tongue before he started yelling at that. Instead, he just shook his head. “No. No, I won’t do that to him,” he said. “Barney was right. The kid should be with his family.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bucky gets antsy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bucky deals with some anxiety in this chapter. If you want to skip over it, you can jump right to "Stark met them at the door to the lab".

Bucky’s agitation from the day before had only gotten worse. Steve had hovered over him all evening, and he’d felt smothered. It had felt like he didn’t have any space to breathe, with Steve constantly looking over his shoulder the same way he had when Bucky had first come to the Tower.

When he’d finally gotten Steve to leave him alone for longer than the time it took to piss, he discovered that Natalia and Barton had left the Tower again. Nobody left the Tower the same day they’d gotten back from a mission unless there was an emergency. Bucky wanted nothing more than to ask someone what had happened, but he was avoiding Steve, and he didn’t know the others well enough that he felt comfortable admitting his discomfort.

As the evening dragged on, with no word from Natalia or Barton, Bucky’s anxiety had only climbed higher and higher. Steve hadn’t helped by stalking him through the Tower, and Bucky had eventually left the residential area completely and had slept on the couch in Miss Potts’ office, for what little he had actually slept. He didn’t like being so far from the rest of the Tower’s residents, where he couldn’t check in on them when his brain wouldn’t quiet, and having two of them out of the Tower completely, without knowing the reason why, was putting him on edge.

He managed to successfully avoid Steve the next morning, grabbing breakfast from the employee cafeteria instead of going back upstairs, and then hiding out in Natalia’s private dance studio. She wouldn’t mind, if she found out, and Steve wouldn’t dare intrude on her space, especially while she was elsewhere.

Unfortunately, he had an appointment in Stark’s lab to have maintenance done on the arm that afternoon, and Steve knew it. Bucky wouldn’t risk not going for maintenance. Any trouble with the arm could lead to a complete breakdown, and always led to anxiety attacks. He couldn’t take that risk. Not with his head already in such an anxious state.

He ran into Steve in the stairwell two floors away from the lab. His harried, tense expression was enough to set guilt blooming in Bucky’s stomach. Steve had just been worried about him, and he’d acted like a child about it, hiding and sulking instead of talking about it.

He ducked his head and hid behind his hair, avoiding meeting Steve’s gaze as he slid past him to continue down the stairs.

“Is everything alright?” Steve asked, following along. “You disappeared last night and never came back. You know you can tell me if something’s wrong, right?”

Bucky shrugged, head still down so he didn’t have to look Steve in the eye. “It was too loud in the apartment,” he said, rubbing at his metal arm. “I didn’t mean to worry you.”

“Buck, you gotta let me know before you up and disappear like that,” Steve said, sighing. “I can’t do anything to help you if you don’t let me know what’s going on.”

Bucky bit his tongue. How could he possibly let Steve know what was going through his mind when he left? What kind of friend would he be if he said that Steve was just too much sometimes? That he needed to be left alone? God he was an asshole for thinking that. Steve was his _best friend_. The only one who had thought it was possible to save him when he was still the Soldier.

“Sorry,” he mumbled, picking at the cuff of his sleeve.

“I just wanna help, Buck,” Steve went on, never breaking stride. “You gotta let me though.”

Stark met them at the door to the lab. He glanced back and forth between them, taking in the tense air and Bucky’s fidgeting, and waved Bucky into the lab.

“Alright, maintenance time,” Stark said, tone just as light and unconcerned as ever. Bucky saw a strange look in his eye though as he turned to speak to Steve. “Sorry, private event. Invite only. Black tie. I don’t make the rules.”

Steve chuckled, and Bucky’s shoulders loosened at the sound. At least he wasn’t too mad.  
“C’mon Tony,” Steve said, shaking his head.

“Nope, you were allowed at first cause we didn’t know if he was gonna go Terminator on my ass,” Stark said. Bucky went very still at that, suppressing the urge to flinch. “However, Bucky Bear’s ability to keep from throwing me through a wall has been established. Which is impressive. Everyone wants to throw me through walls. It’s starting to be a habit among supervillains. And Romanoff. But you hover. I can’t stand it, to be perfectly honest. You literally breathe in my ear while I’m trying to work on that beautifully advanced, ugly-ass piece of machinery,” he rambled. “You are now disinvited to these appointments. I can’t concentrate if you’re up my ass the whole time.”

“Oh, I… Sorry, I didn’t realise I was getting in the way,” Steve said, rubbing the back of his neck.

“Well, now you know,” Stark said. “This decision may be reviewed at a later date. But for now, get outta my lab and do something productive with your day.”

“Alright, well, come find me when you’re done here, I guess?” Steve said, turning to Bucky, as if checking that he was alright with it. Bucky just nodded.

Steve dithered for a moment, looking as though he couldn’t decide whether or not it would be alright to kiss Stark before he left. Bucky turned his back on the two to give them privacy, and to remove his long-sleeved shirt. Steve's relationship with Stark was… confusing. They weren’t together, really, but they slept together sometimes, and occasionally they seemed to forget they weren’t actually dating. It was amusing, sometimes, to see them curled up together during movie night, and making it halfway through the evening before they realised it for themselves.

Instead of a kiss, Steve gave Stark an awkward pat on the shoulder as he turned to leave. Bucky cringed for him.

Stark turned back to Bucky with a wide smile. He was clearly still uncomfortable with Bucky, but he was hiding it better these days.

“Now that the mother hen is gone, we can get to work,” he said, clapping his hands together. “Music? What’s your preference? Got a favourite era?”

Bucky shrugged. “I guess I like Swing?” he said, somehow making it more of a question than an answer.

Stark waved a hand in a random direction, sorting through his tools with the other hand. “You heard the man, JARVIS; give us some Swing.”

_“Of course, Sir,”_ the AI said in that crisp accent that always made Bucky think about Carter. _“Miss Potts has asked that I remind you that you are to meet her at four fifteen so that you may sign some paperwork that she has for you.”_

“Thanks J,” Stark said. “Remind me in plenty time for me to change before I head down.”

_“Of course, Sir,”_ JARVIS responded, just as the music began to play.

Bucky had been confused, at first, by the way Stark treated the AI, and the robots that rolled around the lab. He spoke to JARVIS as though he was a friend, and joked with the robots, even though they couldn’t verbally respond. He treated them like people. Bucky, fresh from his attempts to single-handedly dismantle as many Hydra bases as he could remember, hadn’t understood why. They were robots Stark had made to be useful; there was no reason for him to be nice to them. Bucky had even asked Steve why Stark didn’t just rebuild or reprogramme the robots the first time he’d seen Stark berating one of them for doing something wrong.

He understood better now. Stark cared about JARVIS and his robots because he made them. He had put work into building them and programming them. Blood sweat and tears went into their creation, and any decent, rational person would grow to love the things they had created, especially if they were capable of speech or movement. He’d read about people growing attached to their roombas.

“No offense to your bff,” Stark said, gesturing for Bucky to sit, “But he’s a little much to deal with sometimes. He’s gotta remember that people need their space sometimes.”

Bucky said nothing. It wasn’t really any of his business.

They worked in silence for most of the session. It was strangely comfortable, with Stark humming quietly along with the music.

“I get why he’s tense, y’know,” Stark said after a while. “He gets weird when the rest of the team are dealing with stuff he can’t fix. Or punch until it goes away. Barton’s problem isn’t really one he can punch.”

Bucky’s fingers twitched as Stark moved a wire.

“What happened?” he asked quietly. “Natalia left with him, and…”

“You were too busy playing hide and seek to ask Steve what was going on?” Stark finished for him. “No judgement, obviously; Steve was being obnoxious, and telling him he’s being an ass just makes him do that sad face.”

Bucky kept his eyes on what Stark was doing, watching him tinker with the inner workings of his arm.

“Anyway, the spy kids had to take off to Iowa,” Stark continued, still poking away. “Barton’s brother was in an accident, and now Barton’s gotta go organise the funeral.”

Bucky curled his fingers into a fist. Of all the things to have happened, he hadn’t been expecting that.

“I didn’t know he had a brother,” he said, near a whisper.

Stark shrugged. “Neither did I. Barton’s never been too open about his pre-SHIELD life. Still. Hell of a way to go.”

Bucky went still, but Stark said no more on the subject, clearly unwilling to invite any discussion about his parents.

As they finished up, and Stark stood from his stool, Bucky found himself not wanting to leave the quiet solitude of the lab.

“I got a couch over in the corner if you’re not done hiding from Captain Overwhelming,” Stark said, gesturing to the far corner, where there was a small nook with a couch, a microwave, and a coffee maker. “Since, y’know, Pepper’s office is gonna be full.”

He strode out without waiting to see how Bucky would react, letting the doors close behind him while Bucky stood in the centre of the lab with his shirt in his hand.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bucky's anxiety causes him to withdraw, and he then feels guilty over this when Steve tries to get him to talk about what is wrong.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clint meets Jack for the first time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah... I'm a day late with this one and quickly running out of chapters that are ready to post. Oops.

Clint took a deep breath, and another, trying to calm himself down. The last thing he needed was to have a panic attack right now. He needed to be calm for this. God, he really needed to breathe. He could do this.

“Are you sure you’re ready for this?” Harris asked, pausing at the door.

The farmhouse looked different from how Clint remembered it. A little smaller, and with new paint in a brighter colour. The changes definitely helped with the anxiety he’d been feeling about going there, but there was still the question of what was inside. Who. The question of _who_ was in there. God, he’d barely had time to digest what was going on, and now he was meeting the kid. Jack. His nephew.

“I’m sure,” he said, taking another deep breath. “I… It’s better to give him plenty time to get used to me, I guess. I mean, I’m a total stranger right now. If he’s gonna be living with me, that’s… not great. Better for us to get to know each other sooner rather than later.”

Harris nodded and knocked on the door, shoving his hands into his pockets while they waited for someone to answer. He’d told Clint on their way out there that the Sheriff's niece, Amanda, had been babysitting the night of the accident, and had offered to stay until Clint got there. She was in her early twenties, Clint noted when she came to the door, and likely a little overwhelmed with the whole situation.

“He’s in the living room,” she said, gesturing them into the house. “We tried to explain what was going on, but I don’t know how much he really understood.”

Clint had fuzzy, time-faded memories of the night he and Barney were told about their parents’ deaths. He’d understood exactly what was happening, but he had been six. How much difference in understanding was there in two years? Clint really didn’t know anything about kids, especially ones that young.

He stepped slowly through the halls of his childhood home. He hadn’t been inside the house since the night his parents died. Back then it had been all peeling paint and the constant stench of stale beer and whiskey. He half expected to hear his father’s voice screaming at him about one thing or another when he stepped through the door, though his memories were blurry, and the sound of his father’s voice had slowly melded with that of the Swordsman and Trickshot. It was moments like this, he thought, that really drove home just how deeply fucked up his childhood was.

The walls were lined with photographs, documenting Jack’s growth, and showing Barney smiling and carefree, probably for the first time in his life, along with his girlfriend, Josie. There were a couple pictures with Harris in them, and one of Clint and Barney, in costume at the circus. It must have been taken when Clint was around fifteen. It was one of the last times Clint could remember smiling like that with Barney. The rift between them had already begun by then, but they were still a team. He tore his eyes away from the picture, blinking back tears. There wasn’t time for him to get nostalgic.

He froze in the doorway to the living room, spotting the child sitting in the corner, surrounded by puzzle pieces. He had tousled blonde hair and round cheeks. Someone must have said something, because the kid looked up, eyes finding Clint in the doorway immediately. He lit up and shot to his feet, darting across the room.

“Daddy!” he screeched, and Clint’s heart sank like lead.

He and Barney had always looked similar. The lighting in the room had probably made his hair look as ginger as Barney’s. God, this was gonna break the poor kid’s heart. He could see understanding dawning on the kid’s face the closer he got, until he had slowed to a stop right in front of Clint.

“You’re not my daddy,” Jack sniffed, then promptly burst into tears.

Clint knelt down, holding out his arms. “I know, I’m sorry,” he said. “I know you miss your dad, and I’m sorry he can’t be here. God, I wish he could be here still.” Jack stepped into his arms, and Clint wrapped his arms around him, this tiny person he was responsible for now.  
Harris and Amanda let him quietly comfort Jack until the heartwrenching sobs tapered off into sniffles. It was… strange, to be trusted to know how to deal with a kid, but he’d done alright, he thought.

“That’s a little better, isn’t it?” he said, pulling away from Jack enough that he could wipe away the stray tears still slipping down his cheeks. “I’m sorry, kid. I must’ve scared you a little.” God, he hoped he was saying the right things. “I know you don’t know me, and I don’t really know you, but I’m your uncle. Your dad was my big brother.”

Jack sniffled again and stared up at him with wide blue eyes. Those were Barton eyes if ever Clint had seen them.

“What’s your name?” Jack asked, his voice still a little watery. He scrubbed at his eyes with one tiny fist, and Clint couldn’t help but smile at him.

“My name’s Clint,” he said. “It’s nice to meet you. How would you like to live in New York? Did Harris tell you you’d be coming to live with me?”

Jack nodded hesitantly. “He said New York is far away,” he whispered. “Can I take my toys?”

Clint pulled him in for another hug. “Of course you can bring your toys,” he said. “You can bring anything you want.”

* * *

Natasha didn’t find him again until Harris and Amanda had left him alone with Jack. He’d made some food, which they both just picked at, and then had sent Jack to his room to nap like Amanda had told him he’d need to.

He heard the door creak open, and waited a measured beat until he was sure Natasha was in the kitchen with him.

“Find anything?” he asked, eyes still fixed to the coffee in front of him rather than turning to face her.

She slid into the seat across from him, expression carefully neutral. “There was nothing to find,” she said, pulling the coffee across the table to take a drink. She didn’t make a face when she found it to be cold.

Clint shook his head and sighed. “Alright, I’ll get Stark on tracking down Trickshot, and anyone who was associated with the Swordsman. You can help me dig through files to see who else might have waited this long to find him and still wanted him dead.”

Natasha put a hand on his arm as he moved to stand. “No, Clint. I _didn’t find anything_. Not a suspicious lack of evidence, or traces of someone having removed any evidence. All the signs point to one thing. This was just an unfortunate accident. I’m sorry.”

Clint’s stomach churned. There had to be something. Something she wasn’t telling him. Something she’d missed. Just something. But Nat didn’t make mistakes. And nobody who would have been gunning for Barney would have been able to hide the evidence from her.

“But… Nat, he died on the same road as my parents!” he cried, trying to keep his voice low. The last thing he wanted was for Jack to wake up and hear them.

Natasha stood and wrapped her arms around him. It was rare for her to be so open with her touch, even with him, but he relaxed into her embrace.

“They were both heading home from town, on a bad road,” she said gently. “I’m sorry, Clint. It would be easier, if there was someone to blame. It’s a bad road. He probably swerved to miss a deer or something.”

Clint tried not to cry. He hadn’t wanted Nat to have to deal with that, but he couldn’t help it. He hadn’t had a real conversation with his brother in more than six years, and now Barney was gone, and had left him with a whole goddamn _kid_ to look out for, and Clint was feeling a little overwhelmed. How the hell was he supposed to raise a kid?

He sobbed into Natasha’s shoulder, letting himself cry for the first time since he’d gotten the news.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bucky makes a friend

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bucky's an anxious bean again in this chapter

Bucky had lurked in the lab for a few hours before finally working up the nerve to return to the suite he shared with Steve. He still wasn’t quite up for conversation, but he could handle a quiet evening of music or TV. Being able to sit in the quiet of the lab, with only the soft sounds of the ‘bots puttering around and the near inaudible sound of machinery running, had settled him a little.

He got through a couple of chapters of the book he’d been reading before Steve came home from whatever he’d been doing.

“Hey, Buck,” he said, sliding onto the couch. It really wasn’t built for two supersoldiers to have a lot of room, so Steve ended up right on the edge of Bucky’s personal space. He had to try not to lean away. “Is everything okay? I haven’t seen much of you today. Did something happen while you were in the lab? I can talk to Tony if something happened.”

It was too much all at once, and Bucky stood from the couch abruptly, stalking over to the bookshelf to put his book away for lack of any better reason to have gotten up.

“Nothin’ happened in the lab,” he said, mumbling it toward the neatly shelved books instead of turning to face Steve. Words were… difficult sometimes, and having to face Steve while he was speaking to him just made it harder to figure out what he wanted to say, because Steve would just _look_ at him, like he expected something that Bucky couldn’t figure out. Like he was expecting him to be the man he knew from before.

“Then what’s going on, Bucky?” Steve asked, sounding frustrated. Bucky could picture what he’d look like, staring at Bucky’s back as though he was a problem to solve, that stubborn scowl on his face. “You’ve been avoiding me, and I wanna know why. I can’t fix it if you won’t let me help!”

Bucky shook his head, still facing the bookshelf. “You can’t fix it,” he said, shoulders beginning to bunch up around his ears. He wanted to be anywhere else.

He heard Steve take in a sharp breath behind him, and he flinched. Steve was mad.

“I could fix it if you’d damn well talk to me!” Steve snapped. “What the hell is going on with you? You used to tell me everything.”

Bucky bit his lip hard enough that he could taste blood. “I’m not him anymore,” he said after a measured moment.

Steve sighed and Bucky fought not to turn around and apologise. He was being unreasonable, he knew, but he’d only just gotten his brain to quiet a little, and now Steve wanted him to explain things that he couldn’t verbalise.

“I’m not sayin’ you gotta be exactly how you used to be,” Steve said. “I just want you to _talk_ to me! Jesus, Buck, will you at least _look_ at me?”  
Bucky shook his head again. “I need… I need space,” he said. Stark had said that he needed space too, sometimes. It was normal. Needing some time alone didn’t mean he was broken.

“I’ve been trying to give you space!” Steve said, sounding angry now.

“You’re always talking,” Bucky said, cutting him off before he could say any more. “Always askin’ if I’m alright and lookin’ to fix things. I don’t need you to. I need space.”

He turned to face Steve in time to see understanding dawn on him. But Steve was nothing if not a stubborn ass, and he wasn’t willing to concede just yet.

“You shoulda just told me that, then,” he said, scowling. “I’d’ve listened.”

“I tried tellin’ you,” Bucky said, picking at his nail. “You just weren’t payin’ attention.”

He stalked out of the room before Steve could respond, unwilling to stay and continue arguing. He really hoped that Stark meant for the invitation to hide in the lab to extend past that afternoon.

* * *

He hadn’t expected Stark to actually _be_ in the lab, when he went down there, though he wasn’t entirely sure why. Stark was known for spending days at a time working in there.

They both kind of startled a little when Bucky slipped into the lab silently, closing the door behind him and turning around to damn near trip right over Stark, who was on his way to the coffee machine.

“Sorry, sorry,” Bucky said, tripping over his feet to back away. Stark hated having people in his space, and Bucky had been very conscious so far of keeping his distance. He didn’t like making people uncomfortable.

Stark just stared at him for a moment, empty mug still in hand. He took in Bucky’s rumpled appearance; wearing his sweats, no shoes, and with the skin around his thumb nail bleeding a little from picking at it too much. He probably looked pretty pathetic, he figured, when the look of surprise on Stark’s face gave way to sympathy.

“Captain Dumbass at it again?” Stark said, gesturing vaguely to the door.

Bucky shrugged and started biting his nail again. “Just needed some space,” he mumbled.

Stark hummed and nodded. “Well, couch is still free if you want it.”

Bucky waited until Stark made his way over to the coffee machine to skirt around the opposite way, dodging one of the ‘bots to get to the couch.

Stark turned to watch him while he waited for his coffee to be ready. Bucky tried to ignore him, and leaned down to pet the ‘bot that had followed him across the lab.

“DUM-E likes you,” Stark noted, grabbing his coffee. “All the ‘bots do. If you wanted to come down here and hang out with them every now and then, they’d probably be pretty happy about it.”

Bucky shrugged. “Don’t wanna get in your way,” he said.

Stark was quiet for a moment. “You wouldn’t really be in the way,” he said. “You’re pretty much the opposite of in the way. It’s kind of annoying.”

Bucky stared at him, unsure of how to respond.

“You make it very hard to dislike you,” Stark said. “I really wanted to, but then you went and acted all sweet and quiet and now I feel bad for you and wanna wrap you in blankets and keep you safe.”

“Stark,” Bucky started, but he was cut off.

“No, no, let me talk and then we can forget this ever happened and never talk about it again,” Stark said, waving him off. “Hydra sucks, and I blame them way more than I ever blamed you. But now that I actually know you, I kind of like you. I think you’d be a pretty good friend. And I think you could probably use more friends than just Steve.”

Bucky considered him for a moment, ignoring the way DUM-E tugged at his sleeve. Tony held his gaze, sensing the importance of this moment. Neither of them were particularly comfortable with eye-contact, but Bucky needed to know what Stark was thinking.

“I… I’d like that,” he said after a moment, taking Stark at his word.

Stark nodded. “Good, now, call me Tony, and let’s forget this conversation ever happened and neither of us had feelings at each other. I’ll tell Steve to back off and quit bugging you when you need space.”

Bucky smiled. “Thank you, Tony,” he said, trying not to grin when Tony waved him off and retreated back to whatever he’d been working on. It was nice to think that Tony wanted to be friends with him, even knowing everything he did about the Soldier, and what he’d done.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clint attends a funeral and thinks about the past, and who his brother became.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry guys, this one is sad. We gotta get through the angst to get to the good stuff.

The funeral was… surreal. He was surrounded by strangers who knew his brother better than he did. Clint couldn’t help but feel a little bitterness creep in at the thought. Once upon a time, he and Barney had been each others’ entire world. It had been a long time since they’d been that close, though, and while he wanted to blame Barney for never reaching out, Clint knew that he hadn’t really tried all that hard either.

So, he was stuck watching them bury his brother in a town they’d both once sworn never to come back to, with a nephew who didn’t know him clinging to his hand like a lifeline, and Nat as the only familiar face around him.

Harris helped them pack up Jack’s stuff that afternoon while Jack napped, never once bringing up the fact that Clint hadn’t had anything to say at his own goddamn brother’s funeral. Maybe he understood, having been friends with Barney, that there was too much to say; that talking to a crowd of people he didn’t know about things he’d never spoken to Barney was too much to handle. Maybe he was just judging Clint in silence. Either way, his help was appreciated, especially since he was skipping out on the wake.

“Barney would hate all this,” Harris finally said, staring into a box full of clothes. “People acting like they were his best friends. Half of them didn’t even like him all that much.”

That startled a laugh out of Clint. Nat just raised an eyebrow.

“I was certainly never his biggest fan,” she said. “But I happen to be biased.”

Clint shook his head. “Bartons are hard to love. It’s somethin’ in the blood. We’re a bunch of assholes.”

Harris sighed. “I need a drink for this,” he said. “Too bad Tom’s is full of assholes sayin’ nice stuff about your brother. God, he’d be pissed. He always hated people talkin’ him up.”

Clint laughed again. “It’s ‘cause he knew he was an asshole,” he said, setting aside a full box. “Gotta say, though, he turned it around since coming back here. Think you might’ve been a good influence on him.”

Harris shook his head. “Nah, that was all him,” he said, chuckling to himself a little. “If anything, he was the good influence; I had to quit smoking ‘cause he’d get all pissy if I smoked ‘round the kid.”

Nat shot Clint a small smile at that, as though her suspicions had been confirmed. It made sense though, when Clint thought about it. Barney had obviously put a lot of work in to make sure Jack lived in a very different house than the one he and Clint had grown up in. There wasn’t even any beer in the fridge, and Clint hadn’t spotted any in the trash either. Barney had turned into a much different man than the one Clint remembered.

Jack made a noise from the top of the stairs, and Nat stood.

“I’ll get him,” she said, waving Clint off. “I want to get to know my new nephew a little better before we get back on the road.”

Clint would have believed her if not for the set of her shoulders. Children made her uncomfortable, but Clint could tell she wanted to force herself to be comfortable with _his_ kid. Exposure therapy. Selfishly, he let her go.

Harris waited until he thought she was out of earshot to speak again, though Clint knew she had probably hung back a little to eavesdrop.

“You two been together long?” Harris asked, trying to fit some of Jack’s toys into another box. “This kinda thing has been known to hurt relationships before.”

Clint laughed. “Me an’ Nat are… complicated? I guess?” he said, picking up a sharpie to label the box he’d just finished with. “We’re not together, and we never have been, but we’re partners. Jack’s my family, and that makes him Nat’s family. That’s just… how we are. Been like that since we first met.”

Harris nodded along. “Can I ask… are you guys… are you who I think you are?” he asked, glancing up at the bow Barney had hung over the mantle. It was the one he’d used in the circus, though Clint had no idea how he’d managed to keep it safe long enough to have it in his house.

“Did Barney tell you much about the circus?” Clint asked instead of answering.

“Not much,” Harris said with a shrug. “Kinda figured it wasn’t a good time for you guys there, from what he did say.”

“Did he ever mention my act? What they called me?”

Harris shook his head. “All he said was that you were a better shot than him, so they put you in the ring.”

Clint nodded, eyes fixed on the bow. “They called me Hawkeye,” he said.

He could see Harris staring at him out of the corner of his eye, but he kept on looking at that goddamn bow. His own had been almost identical, the purple just a little more vibrant and eye-catching.

“Barney was right, then,” Harris said. “There’s no safer place for Jack than with you.”

Clint wasn’t sure he agreed, but he kept that to himself.

* * *

They packed up the car the next morning, left the keys to the house with Harris, and were on the road by 10am. They took their time with the drive back, actually stopping to eat, rather than eating on the road.

Jack was quiet for most of it, playing with a couple of his toys in the backseat of the car. He only really spoke up to ask for snacks or let them know when he needed to use the restroom. Clint was really glad the kid was old enough to already be potty trained, because it wasn’t until the first stop that he realised that he knew nothing about changing diapers, and he was pretty sure Nat didn’t know either. Honestly, he wasn’t even sure what age was normal for potty training. He had no idea why anyone had thought it was a good idea to trust him with a kid.

The only real problem came when they stopped for the night. Nat had booked them into a hotel while Clint got Jack out of the car and gathered their bags, and somewhere between the car and their room, Jack’s mood had soured. He threw a tantrum about having to go to bed, and then cried himself to sleep from missing his dad. Clint kind of felt like a failure, and he’d been in charge of the kid for three days.

He laid his head on Nat’s shoulder and sighed heavily. She scratched her nails gently over his scalp in a soothing gesture and waited for him to speak.

“Why did he trust me?” Clint asked.

“Because you’re his brother, and because he knew you would do everything in your power to look after Jack,” Nat said quietly, glancing over at the sleeping child. “You should get some sleep; we’ve got more driving ahead of us tomorrow.”

Clint slept with his hearing aids in that night.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The team get some news.

Bucky napped on the couch, the sounds of Tony puttering around lulling him to sleep. When he woke, he found Steve had texted him just moments before.

_’Take your time. I’m sorry.’_

Tony was still where he’d been when Bucky fell asleep, muttering under his breath at one of Natalia’s widow bites. Bucky figured he probably hadn’t had a chance to speak to Steve yet, which meant that Steve had been stewing long enough to feel stupid. It would probably be safe to go back to their floor for the night.

Tony didn’t even glance up as Bucky slipped out of the lab, still engrossed in whatever upgrades he was implementing. DUM-E, however, beeped sadly at him. Bucky tried not to feel bad about it.

Steve’s door had been left cracked when he made it to their suite, but his light was off, and Bucky figured he had been serious about giving him space this time.

* * *

The next morning, Bucky woke to find a note on the fridge inviting him to breakfast on the team floor. He’d tagged along to a couple of team breakfasts before, and had been allowed to eat in relative silence every time, the team simply talking around him. It wasn’t that they ignored him, more that they seemed to accept that his communication skills were woefully lacking these days.

He could hear the shower running, which meant that Steve had returned from his morning run. Bucky reminded himself that he didn’t need to wait for Steve to do things. He could go down for breakfast by himself.

Nobody paid him any mind when he slid into a chair opposite Tony. Thor continued the story he was telling Rhodes, and Banner grumbled a hello into his coffee that might have been meant for the twins. Pietro was zipping around the table at dizzying speeds, grabbing food for his own plate. Bucky hadn’t interacted with either of the twins much, and the speedster’s energy was always a little startling.

It wasn’t until Steve actually turned up that Bucky realised how long he’d taken to get there. When he arrived, he was wearing an intense look that Bucky had to force himself not to bristle at.

“Nat just called,” Steve said, taking his customary seat at Tony’s left side. “She and Clint are about to head out. They should be getting here by tomorrow afternoon, if traffic works in their favour once they get into the city.”

He was addressing the table as a whole, but Bucky felt some of the tension leave his shoulders at the announcement. It would be good to have everyone back in the Tower.

“I figure everyone should know in advance,” Steve continued, “Barton’s going to be bringing his nephew with him. His name is Jack, he’s four, and he’s going to be living here. Please give them some time to get settled before you start bothering them.” He made direct eye contact with Pietro, who had made a habit of bothering Barton any chance he got. “They’re grieving. Give them some time.”

Bucky stared down at his food, brow furrowed. It seemed that everyone was caught off guard by the news.

If there was going to be a child in the Tower, then it would be best for Bucky to keep his distance. He’d been good with kids, before everything, but he’d been good with _everyone_ then. He’d only really get in the way these days. Besides, Barton would have to be an idiot to let the world’s most notorious assassin hang around his kid.

He spent the rest of the morning checking for weak spots in the Tower’s security, determined to do what he could to ensure that Barton wouldn’t have to worry about it when he got back. After he’d finished that, he conspired with JARVIS to keep an eye on the movers Tony had hired to bring in a whole bunch of child-sized furniture to outfit Barton’s spare room with. They did their jobs quickly and efficiently, never once questioning Tony while he manically directed them. Bucky resolved to sneak a sandwich into his hands later, knowing Tony was going to obsess over making the room perfect. He’d been full of nervous energy since breakfast.

“You know, you don’t have to lurk,” Miss Potts said, stepping up behind him to see which of the security screens he was watching. “I’m sure you and Steve both could put your muscles to use and help out up there.”

Bucky hummed in response, neither agreeing or disagreeing.

“If you catch Tony at lunch, remind him he has a meeting at two,” she said, stepping back toward the door with a wave to Hogan. That man was a snitch. He always told Miss Potts when he caught Bucky in the security room.

* * *

“Miss Potts says you have a meeting at two.”

Tony yelped, clutching dramatically at his chest when he turned to face Bucky.

“Are you trying to give me a heart attack?” he cried. “Because it’s working. I have a weakened heart, you know!”

Bucky slid the plate he’d been carrying across the counter to rest at Tony’s elbow, where he was likely to pick it up without thinking about it.

“You heard the elevator,” he said, staring Tony down. He knew Tony had heard the elevator, because his head had tilted in that direction. It wasn’t Bucky’s fault he was too engrossed in whatever he was doing on his tablet to actually pay attention to whoever had arrived.

“Normal people say hello,” Tony said, picking up the sandwich, just as Bucky had calculated he would. “It’s considered impolite to sneak up on people and start threatening them with Pepper and her meetings.” He took a large bite of the sandwich, as if to emphasize his point, though Bucky wasn’t quite sure how that was meant to work. “Anyway, help me with this. I’m trying to figure out what toys a four year old would like. I know absolutely nothing about kids.”

Bucky stared at him, bewildered.

“What? The kid’s only gonna have whatever Barton was able to pack up in, like, a day, so it makes sense to get him a couple things to make the place feel a little more comfortable. What do kids like? D’you think Barton would murder me for buying him one of those tiny Ferraris?”

“Yes,” Bucky said, because he might not know much about modern kids or what they’d like, but he knew Barton wasn’t the type to be okay with people dropping a bunch of money on useless things. “Maybe stick to small things? Barton can tell you what to get when he gets back.”

Tony frowned, but set the tablet down while he finished his sandwich.

“How’s Happy doing?” he asked when he’d finished. “Sleeping on the job?”

“Hogan’s a snitch,” Bucky grumbled, because it bore saying out loud. “So are the rest of his team. They tell him, and he tells Miss Potts.”

Tony laughed. “I think they’re just scared of you, because you give everyone the Glare of Doom, and Happy knows that Pepper fears no man. He should be used to you lurking though. You lurk. Everyone knows that. And when you don’t lurk, you skulk.”

“I’m just making sure they’re doing their jobs properly,” Bucky said. He wasn’t sure why he was defending his actions, but he wanted Tony to know that he was doing it to keep them all safe.

“Oh, by all means, keep doing it,” Tony said, waving dismissively. “It keeps them on their toes, and it’s hilarious to watch my entire security team be in complete awe at Pepper’s ability to face down the Winter Soldier and tell him to go to bed.”

That had only happened once. Miss Potts had finished a late night conference call and found the security team all in a twist because none of them had noticed Bucky until he’d already been in the security room with three of them for over an hour. She’d marched in and asked him in her terrifyingly polite voice to stop terrorising her staff and go the fuck to bed.

“That only happened once,” Bucky said, because it bore saying out loud. “Don’t forget your meeting.”

He didn’t give Tony a chance to respond, slipping out of the room and back to his and Steve’s suite.

Steve was in the living room when he arrived, drawing absentmindedly on his tablet.

“Hey, Buck,” he said, setting the tablet down. “Sorry for dropping the news on you like that this morning. If I’d known any earlier, I’d’ve given everyone a little more warning. I’m sorry about yesterday too. I don’t know what got into me, but I was bein’ an ass.”

Bucky nodded. “You want to fix things,” he said, sitting on the couch, angled so that he was facing toward Steve, but still had plenty of space to himself. “You can’t fix everything, you know? You can’t fix what’s happening with Barton. There’s no fixing that. You can’t fix me either. _I_ can’t fix me. I just need to be alone sometimes. Or… not alone. Quiet.” He scowled down at his hands, trying to figure out what he wanted to say. Putting words to his moods was difficult.

“It’s alright, Buck,” Steve said. “I shouldn’t have pushed. I wanna do better. We could figure out a system where you don’t have to talk to me to let me know what you need from me.”

Bucky nodded again. “I like that,” he said. “Words are… hard sometimes.”

“I’ll be here when you’re ready,” Steve assured him.

“Okay,” Bucky said, relief filling him at the words. “Okay. Thank you.” He stood and moved toward his room. “I… I’ll let you know.” He ducked into his room without waiting for a response, needing a little time to process.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Bartons make it to the Tower

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The team gets to meet Jack

Clint felt tired and sore by the time they pulled into the garage. He’d been wearing his hearing aids for far too long, and he’d barely slept since leaving the Tower. Jack had been getting restless for the past hour, which certainly hadn’t helped the building headache.

Nat had called ahead and instructed Steve to be there waiting for them so he could carry boxes for them while they got Jack settled. Tony had apparently taken that as permission to be there too. Clint didn’t mind as much as he thought he would. Not when Tony was the first to kneel down to Jack’s level and introduce himself while Clint grabbed their bags.

“Hey, you must be Jack,” he said. Clint watched as Jack tucked himself behind Nat’s legs, watching Tony warily. “Welcome to New York. You’re gonna love it here.”

“These are our friends,” Clint said. “That’s Tony, and that’s Steve. They both live here too.”

Steve smiled awkwardly down at Jack, and Clint was silently grateful for the fact that he wasn’t the only one who had no idea how to interact with kids.

“Hi,” Jack said quietly, barely visible past Nat, who seemed unconcerned by him using her as a shield.

“It’s nice to meet you,” Tony said, sticking his hand out for Jack to shake.

That seemed to amuse him, and he stepped out from behind Nat to shake Tony’s hand. Clint let out a breath he hadn’t realised he was holding, watching his kid and a billionaire superhero shaking hands like it was the most serious thing in the world.

“Do you wanna come grab your bear so we can head upstairs?” Clint suggested, gesturing to the toy still laying in the back seat of the car.

The kid had barely let the thing go since the funeral. According to Harris, Barney had bought it the day Jack was born. Clint had thought it was sweet, but the familiar blue jacket on it had made him laugh so hard he’d had to excuse himself from the room. He hadn’t realised that Tony had made good on his threat to produce a new line of Bucky Bears after New York had revealed Captain America to the world.

“Blue!” Jack cried, dashing back over to the car to get the bear, clutching it to his chest as if afraid that it would get left behind.

Tony stifled a laugh, noticing the bear, and Clint caught the glare Steve shot at the inventor.

“Alright, now that Blue’s with us, we can head up,” Clint said, ruffling Jack’s hair with a smile. “Steve’ll get the rest of your stuff, an’ we can unpack it all later.”

Tony led the way to the elevator, motioning for them to follow him. “You’re gonna love your new room, kid,” he said. “But if there’s anything you wanna change up, let me know. Or let your uncle know so he can let me know.”

_”Welcome home, Agent Barton, Agent Romanoff,”_ JARVIS said as they stepped into the elevator. Jack’s head shot up, looking around for the source of the voice. _”And welcome, Jack, to Stark Tower.”_

“That’s JARVIS, kid,” Tony said, grinning at Jack’s awed expression. “He runs the building for us. He’s something called an artificial intelligence, and I made him to help me with things. If you ever need anything, you can ask JARVIS; he’s got you covered.”

“Where is he?” Jack asked, still looking around, as though he might have missed an extra person in the elevator with them.

“He’s everywhere in the Tower,” Clint explained. “He kind of _is_ the Tower. Think of him as being like a big brain that can control all the electronic stuff in the building. He can turn lights on and off, or open doors, or change the channel on the TV.”

_”Indeed,”_ JARVIS agreed. _”If there is ever anything you require, you may simply ask me, no matter where in the building you are. I will be able to hear your request.”_

The doors slid open to Clint’s suite, and Tony again led the way. Clint dumped his and Nat’s duffle bags in the hallway to be dealt with later. He was only half-listening to Tony telling Jack about his new room.

All of the adult sized furniture had been removed from the room and replaced with smaller versions. The wood was all natural, with everything else being shades of blue, though Tony assured Jack that he could have any colour he wanted instead. There was a toy chest to one side, already half filled with toys, and a train set beside it, set up and ready to play with. On the other side of the room was a small table, and a short bookshelf filled with children’s books.

Clint could feel tears pricking at his eyes. He’d given them a day’s notice, and Tony had gone above and beyond to make sure Jack could move straight into his room and feel at home.

“Thank you,” he said, when Tony had let Natasha draw Jack into checking out the books. There were so many goddamn books. “It means a lot that you put all this work in. I know I didn’t exactly give you guys a lot of warning. Thank you.”

Tony shook his head. “Any excuse to throw my money around, right?” he said with a wry smile. Something about it made Clint’s gut twist.

“No,” he said. “Don’t do that. Don’t try to downplay it. I dumped this on you _yesterday_ , and you still made sure it was all ready on time. You put a lot of effort in to make it perfect, and you made sure Jack knows it’s _his_ and he can do what he likes with it. Thank you. I really appreciate it.”

Tony looked more and more uncomfortable the more Clint spoke, but he was saved from having to respond by Steve arriving with the first of the boxes.

The next half hour was spent moving boxes and unpacking. Jack made sure to show Steve and Tony each of his favourite toys, though Blue stayed tucked firmly under one arm through all of it.

Clint had never been more grateful for his friends than he was watching them listen to Jack rambling about a toy truck. From the look on Tony's face, you'd think he'd never heard anything as interesting.

Eventually, Clint had to declare it time for dinner. Only Nat stayed to eat with them, Steve and Tony both giving them time to settle in.

"Alright, buddy, we've got some choices for what to do after dinner," Clint said, trying not to laugh at the smear of spaghetti sauce on Jack's cheeks. "We can watch a movie for a little while, or we could read. Which one sounds better?"

He figured he would probably need to give the kid a bath too, but he could deal with that later. The thought was vaguely panic inducing; he fully intended to ask JARVIS about how to keep the kid from drowning.

"Hmm." Jack scrunched up his nose in deep thought. "Movie, please. I want Dory."

Clint had absolutely no idea what that meant, so he hoped that JARVIS could figure it out.

"Movie it is, then," he said, hoping Nat wouldn't hear just how overwhelmed he was.

"I'll get the dishes if you boys want to go wash up," she offered, giving Clint a Look.

Clint sighed, knowing she was going to want to talk after Jack was in bed. _"I'll be alright,"_ he signed.

Bath time turned out to be only minimally traumatising for Clint. Jack only got a _little_ bit of soap in his eyes, and he seemed to have forgotten the upset by the time he was in his pyjamas. Clint on the other hand was sure he'd never forgive himself for it.

"Dory" turned out to be _Finding Dory_ ; a movie about a fish. It was pretty good, though Clint was paying more attention to Jack.

Nat didn't confront him before she left for the night, which felt like a small victory.

* * *

He showed Jack around the Tower the next day, letting him meet some of the others. Bruce gave him some advice on proper nutrition for Jack, and Thor had the kid enraptured with a story about Asgard.

Steve and Sam joined them for lunch, though Barnes had apparently declined to join them. Clint figured he'd let him meet Jack at his own pace. Kids could be overwhelming.

Overwhelming was exactly the reason Clint elected not to introduce Jack to the twins just yet. They were good kids, but Wanda could be intense, and Pietro was hard to keep up with. Introducing too many people at once didn't seem like the greatest plan.

Nat appeared on his couch that night after he'd put Jack to bed.

He dropped down beside her, heaving a massive sigh. God, he was tired.

"Either talk to me, or go to sleep," Nat said, giving him a Look.

She had a point. He was going to have to talk about it eventually. He wasn't coping. He _knew_ he wasn't. He wasn't really sleeping either. The problem was, he wasn't _ready_ to talk. He wasn't even ready to untangle his feelings into something coherent enough to talk about.

Maybe it was the sleeplessness, but he'd barely begun to process the situation.

Nat must have read it in his face, because she simply nodded, then reached over to remove his hearing aids.

_"Sleep,"_ she signed.


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bucky has some conversations.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The moment you've all been waiting for! Bucky and Jack finally get to meet in this chapter.

Bucky tried to stay out of the way. Steve had helped move Barton’s nephew’s things into Barton’s suite, which had meant that Bucky was alone for most of the day. He made the most of it and sat in the large, comfortable armchair in the living room to read.

Sam arrived with pizza for dinner a little while before Steve made it back, and he wordlessly turned on the TV to start watching some show where everyone was dead. It was pretty good, and Bucky moved to the couch to be able to watch without straining his neck.

They were halfway through the second episode when Steve arrived, his hair a little ruffled. Neither Sam nor Bucky made room for him on the couch, even when he pouted at them.

“You guys have eaten half the pizzas already?” he asked, grabbing himself a slice.

“We had JARVIS let you know when I got here that we had pizza,” Sam said with a shrug.

Steve flushed red to the tips of his ears, and Bucky hid a smirk behind another slice of pizza. If he hadn’t known from the mussed hair, then the blush would have given away exactly what Steve was up to that kept him from joining them sooner.

“So, how’s the kid?” Sam asked after they’d polished off the pizza. “Is he cute? I bet he looks like Barton.”

Steve nodded. “Yeah, he looks a lot like I think Clint probably did when he was that age,” he said, smiling a little. Bucky was suddenly glad that Steve was awkward with kids, or he was sure that the big blonde dumbass would have ended up with a whole bunch of them by now. “He’s sweet. I got introduced to all of his toys. They were getting ready to eat when I left.”

“Well, let me know if Barton needs any help finding a counselor for the kid,” Sam said. “I’m sure I’ll at least know somebody who knows who to go to.”

That was probably pretty smart, Bucky thought. The kid was probably going to need help adjusting to everything that had happened.

“Tony already had JARVIS put together a list,” Steve said, shaking his head. “Same time as he had JARVIS compile stuff from child psychologists and developmental scientists. I half expected to catch him reading parenting books himself.”

Bucky snorted, able to picture it very clearly, given the state Tony had been in the day before, desperate to make things perfect.

Once Sam had gone back to his own rooms, and Steve had retreated to his bed, Bucky found himself still sitting on the couch, waiting for something. He wasn’t sure what he was waiting for until Natalia walked in and sat beside him.

“I shouldn’t feel guilty for not liking his brother,” she said, staring at the blank TV screen. “Whether I liked him or not wouldn’t change what happened.”

Bucky said nothing, unsure why she was telling him of all people. Feelings, especially complicated ones, weren’t something he knew how to deal with in himself, never mind other people.

“I’m angry at myself for something that wasn’t my fault,” she said, only the tightening of her jaw revealing the depth of her emotions. Her face was otherwise unreadable. “Clint likely doesn’t even remember me saying it. If he does, he certainly won’t hold it against me. And yet _I_ do.”

Bucky realised suddenly that this was a confession. She didn’t need him to understand, or give her advice. He only needed to listen.

“When Clint first got the call, we were in the middle of a fight,” Natalia said, turning to face him. “All he knew was that it involved his brother. We didn’t know what had happened. When he said that it was Barney, I told him that I would kill his brother for him.”

Bucky felt his heart sink at that. That was… a terrible coincidence.

“I should _not_ feel guilty for not liking him,” she repeated. “I had no reason to like him. Clint at least had blood and their childhood to blame for his affection. Barney had never shown any signs of being capable of change. But the life he built for his son… Why do I feel so guilty?”

Bucky hadn’t seen her so vulnerable since they were both mere weapons.

“Because you care about your friend,” he said quietly. “You care about him, and he’s hurting. You spoke without thinking, and it’s easier to blame yourself for something like that than accept the fact that you can’t change things.”

He wasn’t sure if his words would help, but it sounded like something Sam might say to someone who asked him for help, so he hoped it was enough.

Natalia nodded, then stood. “Clint is going to be showing Jack around tomorrow, if you want to meet him,” she said.

She left without waiting for an answer, so Bucky took it to be a statement rather than a question.

* * *

He spent the next day in much the same way, but instead of reading he watched more of the show with the dead people. It was funny, and Bucky found the take on the afterlife to be… unique.

Tony had JARVIS invite him to have dinner with the team, but Bucky declined, content to eat alone for the evening. He’d been more social over the past few days than he had been in the entire two months before, and he didn’t want to push it.

Steve still hovered for half an hour before heading to join the team, offering twice to stay with Bucky, but he took the hint when Bucky told him to enjoy the meal. Things were still a little tense between them while they figured out how to talk to each other again.

He kept watching the dead people show while he ate, silently cheering on the protagonist while she tried to become a better person and not get sent to Hell. Steve made it back to their suite just in time to watch the season finale with him.

_”A minor content warning for this episode, gentlemen,”_ JARVIS said, allowing a pause for Steve to settle in to watch. _”This episode contains the involuntary removal of memories in a non-invasive manner. No pain is caused to the characters involved, however the content may still be distressing.”_

“Thanks for the warning J,” Steve said. “Do you still wanna watch it?” he asked, turning to Bucky.

Bucky took a second to think it over. “I think I’ll be alright. There’s three more seasons, so whatever happens, I know that’s not the end of the story.”

_”Very well,”_ JARVIS said, starting the episode for them. _”Enjoy your viewing.”_

Steve seemed more affected by the episode than Bucky had anticipated, so he turned off the TV once the episode was done and allowed Steve to retreat to his room to draw for a while.

Bucky didn’t think he had been particularly upset, but he found himself still thinking about it hours later, lying awake in the early hours of the morning. He couldn’t stop mulling it over. The thought of all that progress Eleanor had made being erased in an instant made him sad. All that growth erased.

He didn’t sleep much that night, and he and Steve both trailed up to join the team for breakfast the next morning, making a beeline for the coffee maker.

Bucky hadn’t expected Barton to be there, but he was somehow unsurprised to find him already sipping at his own coffee, watching Tony gush over a crayon drawing being shown to him by a kid with shaggy blonde hair and big blue eyes. The family resemblance was very clear to see.

“Mornin’ Barnes,” Barton grumbled, taking another swig of coffee. The bags under his eyes had Bucky wondering if he’d slept at all since getting the news about his brother.

“Barton,” Bucky said, giving him a nod.

“Grab your coffee, I wanna introduce you to the kid,” Barton said, draining his cup.

Bucky did as he was told, too tired and startled to argue.

“What do you want him to call you?” Barton asked, leading him toward the table. “Barnes feels a little formal for a toddler.”

“Bucky’s fine,” he blurted, still not entirely sure what was happening. This was not the direction he had expected his morning to go in.

The kid looked up as Clint strode over and gave him a bright grin, his nose scrunching up with his smile.

“Hey, kiddo,” Clint said, ruffling the kid’s hair. “I want you to meet Bucky. He lives here too. He’s friends with Steve and Natasha.”

“He’s friends with me too!” Tony said brightly, a little too awake, given that the only other one who seemed to be matching his energy was a literal toddler.

“Really?” Clint said, shooting Bucky a strange look. “Huh. Good for you. Anyway, Jack, this is Bucky. Bucky, this is Jack. Say hi.”

“Hi,” Bucky said, waving awkwardly. He felt like Steve. The way Tony snorted, he probably _looked_ like Steve.

Jack giggled at Tony’s expression, then glanced up at Bucky shyly.

“Hi,” Jack said. “Do you wanna see my truck?”

That was how Bucky found himself listening to Jack babble about his toy truck for ten minutes while Clint tried to make sure the kid actually ate his food.


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clint and Jack spend some time with some of the other Avengers

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A quick shout-out to S_VanOosten, who mentioned that it’s their birthday tomorrow. Happy birthday, and I hope you enjoy this chapter as a gift from me to you.

Clint hadn’t been sleeping. He’d spent his restless nights reading over the stuff Tony had put in a folder for him, trying to figure out the whole parenting thing, but it didn’t seem to be working out. Jack would bounce between being a normal, happy kid, and being quiet and withdrawn, seemingly without any trigger. Clint only took out his hearing aids to shower and sleep, terrified he wouldn’t be able to hear if Jack needed him. In short, it had been a stressful week.

Nat had been a great help, spending a lot of time with the two of them. She’d eaten most meals with them, if they didn’t go to join the team, and had spent hours over the past few days reading quietly to Jack while Clint cleaned, or cooked, or showered. She’d been a little cagey, but Clint could only believe she’d tell him what her problem was when she was ready. He was a little too busy to worry about confronting her about it.

The twins had been a decent distraction for a few hours on their fourth day in the Tower. Wanda had been utterly taken with Jack, and had happily read for him when he had handed her a book. Pietro had been a little weird at first. Uncomfortable. Clint was honestly too tired to work out what had been bothering the kid before he got over it and entertained Jack by zipping around being his usual self. Jack had ended up laughing so hard Clint thought he’d puke. He’d been too wired to go to bed that night, and had thrown a little tantrum, so Clint was probably gonna have to limit interactions between the two of them.

Steve and Tony had both dropped by a couple times too, though Steve was significantly more awkward than Tony around the kid. Clint was honestly surprised by how at ease Tony seemed with Jack. He’d spent forty minutes playing trains with him, and had patiently helped pick out some new toys to fill the toy chest with.

Steve had just watched it all fondly, and Clint really wondered how they’d managed to convince themselves that they were subtle. The whole team knew about them. Hell, the _Spider-Kid_ knew about them.

Clint figured he’d leave them to their delusion though. It was none of his business. A bigger concern was how Barnes had been avoiding common areas whenever Clint and Jack were around.

“Hey, Steve,” Clint said, handing over a mug of coffee, “I wanted to apologise. For a couple of things, really. I should have given y’all more warning about Jack. I kinda owe everyone an apology for that. We’re not exactly the best group of people to be springing random surprises on.”

Steve sighed. “Yeah, there wasn’t a lot of time to process the information,” he said. “I don’t think anybody blames you for not really thinking about it, but I appreciate the apology.”

“Could you pass on the apology to Barnes?” Clint asked, sipping at his coffee. He eyed up the wall his first SHIELD-issued bow was mounted on. Maybe once Jack was in bed, he’d rearrange things so he could mount Barney’s bow alongside it. “And I’m sorry Jack made him uncomfortable the other day at breakfast. I’ll try and talk to him about giving him some space. He doesn’t have to run out every time we show up someplace.”

Steve shook his head. “Bucky’s been… practicing taking some space for himself when he needs it?” He sounded unsure of exactly what Barnes was doing. Clint didn’t really know what to make of that. “Honestly, I think he might be avoiding _me_ a little. I don’t think Jack made him uncomfortable. I’ll let him know though.”

Clint sized Steve up, curious about what had happened between Steve and Barnes. He wasn’t about to stick his nose into other people’s business though.

* * *

Thor joined them for dinner, freshly back from spending a couple days on Asgard. He’d brought a couple of Asgardian toys back with him and had delighted in showing Jack how they worked. It had kept the kid occupied while Clint cooked, though he kept an ear out for Jack getting restless.

He needn’t have worried about it. Thor was great with Jack, keeping him entertained without getting him riled up.

“You should teach him to sign with you,” Thor said, once Jack was in bed. He’d stayed and washed the dishes while Clint had been getting the kid settled. “It would make communication easier, and allow your ears a well deserved break.”

He had a point. Clint knew he did, but the idea of not being able to hear Jack calling for him if he needed him made his stomach twist uncomfortably.

“I’ll take it under advisement,” he said, handing Thor a beer. “Tony’s little Parenting File says it’s better to get them started on new languages while they’re young. What do you speak on Asgard? Maybe you could teach him some of that.”

Thor laughed heartily. “We have something called Allspeak on Asgard,” he said with a smile. “It allows us to speak with and understand all languages. Allspeak was the inspiration for many translation devices across the wider universe. Unfortunately, it is not something that can be taught, or I would be more than happy to share such a gift, not only with Jack, but with all of you.”

Clint nodded. “It was worth a try,” he said with a wry smile. “It’s not like Jack’s gonna be hurting for teachers. Between everybody in the Tower, he’ll be fluent in at least a dozen languages.” He wondered if Barney had had plans to teach Jack a new language. He was pretty sure Barney had planned so much for the kid’s future, and now Clint was left floundering, desperately trying to work out what he would do _this week_.

His eyes were drawn again to where his bow was mounted on the wall. Surely there were spare mounts somewhere in the Tower.

“Are you well, Clint?” Thor asked, noticing his distraction.

Clint shrugged. He wasn’t ready to have _that_ conversation. “Wanna help me with a project?” he said, setting his beer down. “JARVIS, where can I find wall mounts? I know Tony’s got some stashed _somewhere_.”

_”If the project is not urgent, Agent Barton, then I can have an appropriate mount delivered by no later than noon tomorrow,”_ JARVIS replied.

Clint shook his head. “Nah, I don’t wanna be doing any DIY while the kid’s up and running around. I wanna get this done tonight.”

Thor shot him a strange look, and Clint realised that he hadn’t exactly explained. He motioned for Thor to wait, and darted into his room to fetch Barney’s bow.

“Barney had it up on his wall, and I figured it would be nice for Jack to have it here,” he explained, brushing along the length of the bow with reverent fingers. It had been through so much, surviving the long years since Barney and Clint had each parted ways with the circus. It was a bit dinged up, and Clint wasn’t going to try shooting it in case those dings would crack or break the bow, but it had still survived.

_”In that case, Sir keeps a collection of such items in his workshop,”_ JARVIS said. _”You will likely find them most easily by asking him directly.”_

Thor nodded thoughtfully. “I will go fetch a selection of mounts for you,” he said. “Have you a hammer? I would not like to use Mjölnir for such a delicate task.”

“I got a hammer and nails and all that shit,” Clint said, waving him off. “I’ll grab ‘em while you’re getting the mounts.”

They worked in silence when Thor returned, and when Clint finally placed the bow onto the mounts, he felt… lighter. It felt like an acknowledgement. He wasn’t sure what of, but he felt it all the same.

He didn’t realise he was crying until Thor placed a hand on his shoulder, offering his silent support.

“It’s stupid,” Clint sniffed. “It’s just a bow.”

“It is not stupid,” Thor said. “Grieving never is. Loss can be processed in many different ways. If this, displaying your brother’s weapon alongside your own, helps you, then it is not stupid.”

Clint wiped the tears away, suddenly drained of all energy. “I barely even knew him anymore,” he said in a whisper. “I don’t know why he kept the bow. I don’t know _how_ he kept the bow. This is all… it’s all so…” He couldn’t find the words for what it was.

Thor turned to face him fully, pressing a kiss to his brow. Clint had gotten a couple of those before, but Thor had learned quickly that Asgardian displays of platonic affection sometimes had different connotations on Earth, so he generally kept such overt displays for moments when things had gone truly wrong. The last time Thor had kissed him was after Clint had woken up from a head injury that could have killed him.

The gentle affection threatened to open the floodgates, and Clint bit his lip to keep from crying again.

“I understand that this is difficult, Clint,” Thor said. “The road ahead is hard, and at times it may seem impossible, but you are _not_ alone in this. It is not weakness to lean on your friends in times like these, nor is it weakness to shed tears for those you have lost. I only ask that you tell us when you need help. It is not my place to insert myself into your lives, nor would I seek to tell you that I know your mental state better than you do, but know that there is no shame in asking for myself, or Natasha, or any of your other friends here, to care for Jack so that you may take an afternoon to yourself.”

Clint threw his arms around Thor and squeezed, glad for the comfort that Thor’s words and embrace brought.

“I need to sleep,” he said, his voice muffled by suppressed tears and Thor’s shoulder.

“Then sleep, my friend,” Thor said. “I believe I will join Jane at her apartment for the evening, but I will return tomorrow to dine with the Avengers.”

Clint stumbled off to bed, glad that, for all that much of his life had been a mess, he had somehow managed to find friends like the ones he had. They were a weird bunch, but they were good people.


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bucky meets a very special bear

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Have some fluff guys. I think I need some fluff right now, and maybe you do too.

Bucky had spent two and a half hours tossing and turning before he gave up on getting any sleep anytime soon. His shoulder had been aching all day, and he'd snapped at Steve for no reason that morning.

Instead of letting his anxiety climb any higher, he decided to patrol the Tower. It was reassuring to check the security systems. He knew that they would be as airtight as they always were, but it always helped him to relax from a bad mood.

He was checking the stairwell between the corporate floors and the residential floors when JARVIS spoke.

_”Sergeant Barnes, your assistance is required,”_ he said, startling Bucky. _”Jack is upset, and not responding to my attempts to communicate. I fear he has found himself a little lost.”_

Bucky had started moving before JARVIS even finished speaking. “What happened? Where’s Barton?” Clint _had_ to be freaking out if Jack had gotten lost. But why hadn’t JARVIS just told Barton where to find Jack?

_”Agent Barton is asleep,”_ JARVIS said, sounding somewhat distressed. _”For medical reasons my programming does not allow me to wake him at the moment, except for reasons of personal safety.”_

That… sounded an awful lot like the Stark Needs Sleep protocol. Which meant that Barton had gotten less than eight hours of sleep over the past three days. Bucky had known he wasn’t sleeping, but he hadn’t realised it was that bad.

“Why not call Steve or Tony?” he asked. Steve’s door had been closed when Bucky had left their suite, but he’d heard him leaving, so he knew Steve was still awake and around the Tower somewhere.

_“Sir and Captain Rogers are both indisposed at the moment,”_ JARVIS replied. Which explained where Steve was.

“Where’s Jack at?” Bucky asked, taking the stairs two at a time.

_”You will find him in the North stairwell, a floor below his own residence.”_

Bucky wondered why he was even in the stairwell in the first place, but questions could wait until he’d found the kid.

He heard Jack crying before he saw him, standing in the stairwell in Mickey Mouse pyjamas, his hair mussed from sleep. Bucky held out his hands as he approached carefully.

“Hey, buddy,” he said in as soothing a tone as he could manage. “Hey, you’re okay. It’s alright. It’s okay, I’m gonna help.”

He knelt beside the kid and held out his flesh hand while Jack hiccupped through his sobbing. His lip trembled when he looked at Bucky, and he latched on, ignoring Bucky’s outstretched hand to fling himself at his chest instead. He buried his face into Bucky’s shirt and sniffled, his tears finally slowing.

“It’s okay, buddy,” Bucky said, patting his back gently. “Let’s get you back to bed.”

“I want Blue,” Jack said, his voice wobbling with the threat of further tears. “I can’t find him.”

Bucky had no idea who or what Blue was, but if finding him meant getting the kid back to his own room, he was more than willing to help.

_”If I may, Sergeant Barnes,”_ JARVIS said, _”Jack appears to have left his toy in the lounge of the common floor. My apologies; had I known that he was searching for Blue, I would have given him access to the elevator to go to the common floor.”_

Again, Bucky detected distress in JARVIS’s tone. It should have been impossible, but if anyone was going to build an AI that was truly capable of human emotions, it would be Tony.

“It’s alright,” Bucky said, pulling away from Jack so that he could stand. “We can go get Blue together. That way you won’t get lost again.”

He managed to take about two steps before Jack grabbed his hand and held on. He didn’t let go again until they were in the lounge.

As soon as the kid spotted his toy, he shot across the room to it and snatched it up in a hug. It was a teddy bear, apparently, wearing a black mask across its eyes, and when Jack turned to face him again, Bucky saw that it was wearing a hauntingly familiar jacket. He pushed his feelings on _that_ down to be dealt with later, and gave Jack a small smile.

“So this is Blue, huh?” Bucky asked.

Jack nodded, still crushing the bear to his chest. “He’s my best friend. I was sad when I couldn’t find him, and Uncle Clint was sleeping, so I couldn’t ask for help. I’m sorry for not listening. I just wanted Blue.”

Bucky felt his heart break a little. “What do you mean?”

“I didn’t listen,” Jack repeated. “Uncle Clint said not to go downstairs by myself.”

That made sense. It was a sensible rule to put in place.

“I’m sure you won’t be in trouble for it,” Bucky said. “But next time, you should ask JARVIS for help if your uncle isn’t there, or is asleep. That’s what he’s here for; to help us.”

Jack nodded and sniffled again, rubbing at his eyes. He was clearly exhausted from his little late night adventure, and Bucky figured getting him to back bed should be his next priority. Then tomorrow he could have a word with Tony about the bear. He got the feeling it was somehow Tony’s fault.

Jack reached out to take his hand again, and Bucky had to force himself not to flinch when tiny fingers curled this time around his metal hand. The texture seemed to take Jack by surprise, and he stopped to look at the hand he was holding, lifting it up a little to see the way the dim light played on the metal plates.

“Are you a robot?” Jack asked in a near whisper, his eyes wide as he stared up at Bucky in awe.

Bucky had no idea how to answer that. “Uh…” He stared down at the kid, who wasn’t shying away from him, or acting fearful. He seemed thrilled by the idea of Bucky being a robot. He was clinging to Bucky’s hand still, unwittingly grasping a weapon used in countless murders. Bucky felt a little ill.

“Did Tony build you like he built JARVIS and You and DUM-E?” Jack continued.

Bucky shook his head, then hesitated. “Um, he built the arm,” he said haltingly. “It’s something called a prosthetic. I didn’t have an arm anymore, so I had to get a new one,” he explained as he led Jack to the elevator. He wasn’t sure that he was explaining it _well_ , but he didn’t want to scare Jack by telling him everything.

“Oh, like Uncle Clint’s ears!” Jack exclaimed. “Aunt Natasha said that if he doesn’t have his purple ears on, he can’t hear very well, so I have to tap him before I talk.”

Bucky hadn’t really thought of the connection between the two, but he could see why a child might draw such a parallel. He’d seen Barton speak with Natalia in sign, and thinking on it gave him a sudden idea for how he could communicate with Steve on days where words were hard.

“I suppose it’s a little like that,” he said, smiling down at Jack. Jack smiled back, his nose scrunching up with his little grin.

He settled into bed easily, clutching Blue under one arm while Bucky tucked him in.

“Night night, Bucky,” he said sleepily, his eyes drifting closed.

It wasn’t until Bucky was back in his own room that he realised he’d _tucked Jack in_. He hadn’t even realised he’d remembered _how_ to tuck someone in, but now he remembered countless nights tucking Becca in and telling her stories as a kid.

He wondered if Barton would be angry in the morning, when he found out that the Winter Soldier had tucked his kid into bed, or if he would just be relieved that Jack hadn’t been alone in the stairwell for too long.

He put those thoughts out of his mind and turned on his tablet, pulling up tutorials on the basics of ASL. He wanted to be prepared when he brought a solution to Steve. Signing would mean that they would _both_ have to take time to think about their words, and it would keep the room quieter when Bucky’s brain was having a hard time with noise. Why ASL had never occurred to him before, he didn’t know, but he was pretty sure it was going to be the solution he was looking for.

**Author's Note:**

> Taking a short break from posting next week to try to write out and edit a few more chapters. This has been a crazy week for lots of reasons, and I haven't spent as much time as I'd like writing. Don't worry though, I will be back on the 14th with Chapter 11, and FrenchKey and I will still be posting for the Ladies of Marvel Bingo, if any of you want to check out my other stuff in the meantime.
> 
> Thanks for sticking with me so far!


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